The Lamb
by Aiiro Hoshi
Summary: Help me, he begged. He wanted to reach out to her. He wanted her to clutch him to her side. But he couldn't move. He was too far away.


**Brief Commentary:  
**This is to make up for the lack of updates. Yes it is. Since TEH is under-going a major revamp, don't expect much out of it for like...the next month or so. ;_; Sorry, sorry, sorry...I'd recommend looking at Chapter 1 again though, because I _have_ rewritten that. Everything else is irrelevant. For maybe a chapter or two I'll keep the original content and add in a few sentences here and there, but mostly it's gonna be reconstructed. Enough about that, though. Onto this. I started thinking by the end of Chapter 54...Arachne is the "Mother of All Demon Weapons." This makes me wonder - does Soul feel any kind of emotion towards Arachne, then? Not _love_ or anything...but does he feel _something?_ This is my take.

_But who are you  
You are the truth (you are the truth)  
Out screaming these lies  
You are the truth (you are the truth)  
Saving my life_

* * *

**The Lamb  
**_One-Shot_

_The First Appearance_

When she had appeared, her body forming out of a writhing mass of spiders, his systems had all shut down. His heart missed a beat, his breathing stopped, his limbs froze. Her cold-looking lips parted to speak, and he felt something deep within him (it wasn't the demon, no) struggling to hear everything she said. He wanted to know what she was saying, what she was thinking, what kind of emotion she was feeling; for some reason it was devastatingly important and he knew that these child-like feelings of dependency had not been pushed onto him. He had always carried them.

"Maka, **Soul**," she whispered, her voice, to him, a pleasant, comforting sigh, "You had a fight over who burnt the curry last night, didn't you...**Soul** forgot to turn the stove off..."

His body writhed with delight at the sound of his name. He hated it. But he treasured it.

When Justin and Giriko had begun to fight, he was frightened. Frightened she would be injured. If she were injured, what would happen to him? His meister shifted uncomfortably in his grasp, and he realized how tightly he must've been squeezing her. He forced himself to pay attention to the battle and relax himself. But it was so hard. So hard, when she was right _there. _When they departed, he realized that there was an ache in his chest. He glanced briefly at Justin, and surely enough, the Death Scythe had just cleared away a pained face as well.

"Shit..." he mumbled.

His meister looked to him in concern.

_The Second Appearance_

The second occurrence. He was useless. Helpless. His own inner demon had told him so.

"Stay there and rot," he had said. Perhaps something along those lines. He didn't want to stay there. He wanted to stand up, he wanted to change. But why? Why should he stand up? Why should he change? More importantly, the darkness was far too over-whelming...he didn't have a good enough reason to stand. There was no reason. Perhaps, for his meister, he should. He really ought to. But she felt so very far away, and he wondered if she would even notice if he did. He didn't like it on the ground.

Strings pulled at his limbs, and he stood anyway. He didn't want to stand, not yet. He wasn't ready. But to his surprise, there was no light awaiting him when he stood. That was good; light frightened him. It meant people were giving him their complete attention. He hated having to suffer that.

His ears pricked at the sound of her voice. A comforting melody on a non-existent wind, a demure sigh, a pleasant sound.

"I will show you the way to go,** Soul**," she said, "You don't have to worry about where to go. You can just relax."

_Help me_, he begged. He wanted to reach out to her. He wanted her to clutch him to her side. But he couldn't move. He was too far away.

"This darkness binds you and I together, **Soul**," she murmured, "You mustn't break it..."

_Help me,_ he repeated. He tried to touch her, tried to go up. But he was held down.

And suddenly, pain erupted in his head.

- - - - - -

Despite the fact that Maka had released him from Arachne's spell, Soul couldn't shake off the feeling that soon enough, he would go to her.

Like the child to its mother.

Because she was more of a mother to him than his true mother ever was.

His body told him so.

His body yearned to be near, to be near such a motherly creature, a creature who had created what he was. The creature who had created the colder, sharper, deadlier form that was as much of a part of him as the demon was. Perhaps the demon had also always been there, as his scythe form had been. He just hadn't realized it yet.

But the primal instinct to go to her was strong and painfully present. He knew little of Arachne at all, but it was her mere presence, her mere facial expressions, her mere fingers, her mere _everything_ that drew him to her. Just once, he wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and burrow his head into her stomach, seeking out warmth and comfort. It was a disturbing but insistent feeling, and it would not pass. He doubted it ever would.

Soul's common sense cautioned him. It told him to keep away, that any association with the spider witch meant deadly results, whether for himself or his friends. But he wanted to be at Arachne's side. He wanted to be at his creator's side. He wanted to receive affection from her, because his body was certain she would give it. He was sure this applied to most all demon weapons. She had created all of them. She was _mother_.

He didn't want to, but he wanted to.

He wanted to go to her.

Like the child to its mother.

Like the moth to the light.

Like the lamb to the lion.

* * *

_I have a feeling this was mostly my own rambling and had nothing to do with the story at all._


End file.
